


Giving Permission

by Malind



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst, Father/Son Incest, Hand Jobs, M/M, POV First Person, Rutting, Sexual Content, Smut, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:40:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6823234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malind/pseuds/Malind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during an unused scene for the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Giving Permission

**Author's Note:**

> This scene would not get out of my head (although I didn't actually see the scene until today. Before I'd only see the "making of" video.). So I wrote a quickie for it. :P Now hopefully it goes away. 
> 
> Personally, I wish they'd used this scene because, as the movie stands, it's like Legolas just ran off without any consideration for his father and his kingdom, which I find hard to buy. Yeah, he likes/loves Tauriel in the movie, but he is also severely loyal and is capable of thought beyond his hormones.
> 
> Now, let's ignore everything I just said for this story! XDDD
> 
> Here's the scene, btw:
> 
> <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xBie0pY0p4>
> 
> Disclaimer: The Tolkien characters and universe are owned by Tolkien Enterprises. I make no profit from this fanfiction.

Lost in my trepid thoughts, in what I now know is to come, I gaze out of the enormous, jagged hole in the hillside, standing high on a balcony cut into the living stone of the halls.  My hand white-knuckled on my staff, my eyes are locked on the far away mountain separated from me by the dark forest. A short distance behind me, my son pleads his case for Tauriel.

"I can bring her back." Legolas' strong, but soft words draw me like a battle cry. Or perhaps that draw is from his urgent gaze I feel on me.

I turn my head to look at him, unsure if my troubled thoughts about so many things reach my face. I fear they do. "You have two days."

"In two days..." Legolas mutters with a slight frown that borderlines on a cringe, "The last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter..."  He takes a step towards me. "...appear in the sky together."

"And the bells shall ring in gladness at the Mountain King's return." I look back to that very mountain, to what I know is inevitable doom for many, since I now grasp who those dwarves are who had managed to gain their freedom through the faults of the Silvan elves. "But all shall fail in sadness, and the lake will shine and burn." I grit my teeth, infuriated with my own shortsightedness over so many things in the last month, before I manage, "In two days you are to return, Legolas, with or without her."

Two days to bring back the insolent, borderline-useless Silvan elf whom Legolas protects with his words and body. A generous amount of time for traipsing off into the forest after orcs without my permission.  Time only given since she is a captain of my guard by a thread.

"I will, father. You have my word," my beautiful son says in his straightforward, disciplined, cold way, well, except when he is particularly perturbed with me.

At least... that is the way he is with me.  What he does amongst others out of my sight, I cannot say.

Nor can I blame him for his coldness, this near perfect double of myself, when I, his father, carry that coldness in myself. His detachment is his companion, his protection, what makes him controlled. He is what I raised him to be, what I need him to be, to aid my rule of this kingdom, even while, underneath, I wish certain parts of him softened to me, while I wish another particular part hardened like steel.

I turn my head to stare again at him, deliberating myself as well as him.  If he had any idea what I felt inside at this moment, would he be so quick to run after her, this elf he believes he cares so much for?  Then again, such knowledge of my heart, my lust, my sin would probably make him run faster.

Right before he turns away, probably realizing I have nothing more to say except what will never be spoken, I come close to telling him the raging in my otherwise iced heart. Closer than I ever have before since the desire started burning up my body and mind so many years ago. How have I survived these centuries? This time since he came of age and I could no longer turn away from his beauty, a combination of both his mother and myself, and perhaps a bit of my father as well in his strong jaw and eyes?

Looking down at him now, a renewed, horrible vision, that has been haunting me for the past month, ever since those impudent dwarves invaded my kingdom, consumes my mind. Despite his words, I know my son will not come home as he has every other time before. I have seen it. Far too many times, to the point that I wish to claw my mind out.

When he begins to turn with only more determination in his eyes, "Legolas," bursts from my lips before I can stop myself.

I turn and take a step towards him as he looks back up at me with eyes as detached as they have been since my son was a child, since my wife's death brought an end to our happiness in one another. If only I had seen her death as I now see my son's abandonment...  Or, perhaps, somewhere in the back of my mind, I _had_ seen those beasts take her but the vision had been too horrible to allow purposeful thought.

 _'You_ should _run from me,'_ I want to say to him, but, of course, how can I?  I cannot fulfill this self-filling prophecy so soon.  One day, he will run from me, I know that, but, no, not now.

My free hand betrays me as it cups my son's vaguely warm cheek which heats instantly under my touch, although, more likely, it is my own heat burning his skin.

My mind pleads against me and with me, 'Y _ou should run, Legolas, you should, but not now, not ever.'_

"You will come back to me," I whisper, the determined words more for my benefit than his.

The endearing confusion in Legolas' eyes hides a bit under his frown as he tries to figure out my closeness, my touch. Wanting so, so much to give him that answer, I bend my head down.  After all, one can only constrain such desires for so long before they burst forth, especially when touching him does nothing to help my resolve.  The worst part is: I had known that fact before pleasuring myself in the feel of his soft skin.

Then his eyes change when my face is only a breath away from his. He surely knows what is about to come. I pause at the realization of being caught in my desires.

And then, in merely a painful thud of my heart, he closes the remaining distance, pressing his lips willingly to mine with such hunger.  My body's response tramples all over my questions as to why he is kissing me, pressing against me, moaning weakly into my mouth.

I want him.  I have wanted him for so unbearably long.  To think he is even slightly willing, let alone an aggressor in this...  

I drop my staff to the ground without a thought for it and pull away from the kiss while grabbing his armored tunic at his chest. Ignoring his panicking eyes, I then force him to the side and backwards until he hits the line of the stone support pillar a short distance behind him.  His weapons and armor clank against it. His breath is forced out in a huff. Anyone looking in our direction would be able to see us, and I cannot care in the least.

I reclaim his mouth, deeply, coming to know his taste so well. My desire and lust consume me as much as he consumes my taste and groans. His hips jut out to meet mine, grinding against me, hardening my cock until it aches. 

With no chance to protest or welcome me, blindly lifting his tunic, pushing back on his stomach to restrain him, I make quick work on the ties of his pants, yank them down a bit, and latch onto the hardness between his legs. His hand forms iron grips on my long coat and he lowers his head, pulling out of the kiss. I press my wet, reddened lips to his forehead instead. My hand strokes over the length of his erection as his breath hitches with each one.  His hips thrust into the tight grip, encouraging me.  His erratic breathing begs me to not stop. Like I would at that moment without brute force.

Wanting to see him, I pull back so I can drink in his impassioned face, his eyes clenched shut, his trembling, arching, thrusting body. He is so close already, and that fills me with such an affectionate pleasure that I want with everything in me to be inside of him at that moment, forever.

"Come for me," I whisper through my own heavy breaths, so quietly though that he might not have heard over his raging body.  I could barely hear the words myself.

When he manages to get his eyes open a moment later, the look he gives me...  Had anyone seen that look, they would never doubt my son's loyalty to me and his love for me, even if they believed in the inevitable end of his commitment. My jealous command I had given Tauriel, warning her to keep Legolas at a distance, comes back to me, and I realize those words had been utterly unnecessary.

When he comes with small cries that he is obviously trying his best to restrain, his body trembles and presses against me.  His length pulses as I cover it in my hand to catch his seed.  I wish my mouth was on him, tasting him first hand, but I cannot draw myself away from his passion-driven face, at least not this time. I pray this isn't the only time.

When he finally focuses on me, he is absolutely stunning in his blushed and kiss-reddened skin, panting breaths, and damp brow.  Then, his cheeks reddening further, the look he gives me... I cannot define it, but I instinctively know to fear it. 

"I-I must go."

I let him go as he slinks away from me, putting his clothing back in order, and hurrying away.  It is not until he pauses and looks back at me that I can breathe again.  But the look is cold, like so, so many before it.  And for the first time, I completely regret the way I have raised him.  I even regret my position as king.  And I will give anything, everything, to see love again in his eyes.

And then he turns away and leaves me.  The only things I have left of him, for far too many days to come, are the hardness at my groin, the ghosting feel of him against my body, and the taste of him in my hand that I cannot help but try.  

Needless to say, he is delicious.


End file.
